Firewall
by Caitlynnn
Summary: His thoughts are sporadic, he'll act like an addict, drink like he's a drunker, and fight like he's a fighter. He can fool anyone; he's the green eyed monster... A firewall. A series of dark one-shots and explorations in the mind of Elijah Goldsworthy..


**First one-shot of a series of that I'm starting. I am going to try to experiment with my writing and I really want to do explorations of insanity, and anger, and pain. Some may be disturbing while some are just full of tragedy, but hopefully it'll mean something. **

**This first one is based off of me a few years ago when I went through kind of a rebellious stage. **

**Reviews are cool. **

**I do not own Degrassi. **

His body feels hot. It's the air, he thinks. But it's actually one of the coldest seasons Toronto has had. Goodbye summer. You will surely be missed. But he doesn't know this. He's forgotten what's its like to live in the real world, to actually be there and live in it.

His thoughts are kind of insane. No one really understands him. Not even the girl who pushed him to his limits. She couldn't even understand. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that she's a little insane, too.

No one wants to admit they're crazy.

His phone rings and he looks at see who's the caller is. He rolls his eyes; it's his mom. She's been calling him for the past hour but he doesn't want to answer. He's dangling his feet over the edge of a house that's been abandoned. He likes it here. It's peaceful and not filled with everyone's trivial bullshit. He won't admit that he's been pushed around by life more than he'd like. He won't admit he's depressed, but he'll admit he's crazy.

Its like a label he has to live by but he doesn't really want to. It's just a choice and it's not his fault. Everyone wants to blame him, which is fine, he likes the abuse, but everyone contributes to pain. You can't just reach that point on your own.

"Shit," He mumbles as the pills drop to the ground. He doesn't want to go get them, but he paid big money for those pills. Damn him. What a fucking idiot.

The vodka is still burning his throat. He drank it straight. You can't just drink vodka straight, its like a fire going down your throat. Even if it feels good, its cringe worthy.

"Push the pills down, drink a little harder, and laugh a little louder, breathe a little better." He mumbled the dead hand lyrics. The band took a turn when they changed the singer. Though Eli and Adam were pissed, Eli learned to love the new singer; Adam hated the gloomy dark lyrics and stopped listening to them. Their new single probably said fuck every other word. Adam couldn't take it. But Eli smiled approving of it.

"No one hates the wicked…. Oh God what were the lyrics…" Eli slurred, pouring himself another glass, and then preparing himself as he drank the vodka. "Fuck!" He yelled. The burn hurt so badly, but he was trying to get use to it.

"Oh right, no one mourns the wicked." He laughed at himself.

Earlier he had bought the pills, he had planned to get these a while back, and he got caught up and totally forgot about it. "Anyways," He mumbles. He gets up and stumbles on the roof. He doesn't think he can make it down the roof without falling. But he's drunk; pain doesn't affect him when he's drunk. It just makes him laugh like the idiot he is.

He swings his leg over and looks down. Man, that is one scary fall, he thinks. "Why am I such an ass?" He asks, looking around. Its cold enough for it to snow, he can see little clouds everytime he breathes.

He slowly steps down and slowly does baby steps until he's comfortably on the ground.

He went over to the pills and brushed off the dirt, he looked at the pills, and counted them. It only took one pill to do the job. So, why would he do such a thing to his family? What had caused his heart to be so hardened and full of just anger?

He puts the pills back in the bottles and he looks around his surroundings. He could leave right now. He could save his life and leave and not come back to this place. But his demons tell him otherwise. They tell him he's not worth it, he doesn't deserve to live. He shouldn't fucking be here, he doesn't belong here. His heads in the clouds anyways. But hey, it's much better than being there. People hurt him, but he knows he's fucked up their hearts, too.

He's frozen, completely frozen. Love is nothing to him. Though everyone loves him and hates him, he just can't deal with it. He's afraid of people loving him. He knows what happens when you love someone. You just want the best for them, and you want the person to be happy even if it kills you. You just really want them to be happy.

But people change, and happiness fades, and soft hearts turn into cynical ones. You can't change that, you can't do anything about it.

"I would have done anything for you," Eli sings from the same song. His singing isn't really singing, it's more of a shout, so terrible. Its like nails going across the chalkboard…. It's cringing to hear.

_Clare had agreed to meet Eli at their bench. They had just gotten together again, and for the most part they were happen, trying to mend the broken seams. And Eli was finally on his way to recovery. _

_Clare saw him and smiled he met her halfway and kissed her and held her hand. They had sat on the bench, and Eli handed her his notebook. "What's this?" She asked, opening it up. _

_Eli looked at it and told her, "It's my journal." He gave a small smile and then he looked away, "I'm sorry if it gets a little disturbing… but I think you should read it."_

_The next part he was nervous for. He fiddled with his fingers. _

"_I… I want to break up." He told her. She looked at him in shock. "Are you kidding me?" She started to back away. "After all this time?" _

_He only nodded. He didn't look at her. "Why?" The tears kept streaming down and she wanted to blend in with the cement. _

_He got up and left her, and he didn't look back. He felt bad…. He wanted to break something, but he was going to save that till later tonight. _

It had taken Clare a long time to get over the break up. It just seemed so not like Eli to be flighty like that. But no one really understands Eli.

The next day Clare had gone to Imogen's house and they went to the park that night in the total dark. Clare wanted to blame Imogen for turning him into a cold-hearted bastard. But Imogen didn't do anything. Though Clare knew nothing about Imogen, to be honest, she thought Imogen was heartless, to her surprise Imogen broke down.

Barriers were broken, and things had been discovered and learned. Imogen looked at his journal and read some of it out loud. A lot of it was gruesome, and a lot of it was pure heartbreaking. He talked a lot about death and wanting to do drugs so he could feel happy again.

Had he really given up on everything all together?

After Imogen and Clare both read some of it, they had gone to the Goldsworthy house and talked to CeCe and Bullfrog alone, and they showed him the journal. Everything Eli feared what happened was happening.

CeCe went into Eli's room sobbing at some of the things he wrote, Bullfrog for the first time cried in front of his son, too. And this didn't help Eli; this made him feel like utter shit.

That's when the line started to form. He decided that he wouldn't trust anyone. Nobody was trustworthy. Not even Adam. He felt like everyone was turning against him because every move he made everyone questioned. His sanity was at stake here. Not that he had much to begin with.

Slowly he started to push everyone away.

Clare was a wreck, because her ex boyfriend (again) was going insane. But she started to slowly realize that he liked it. He got attention that way. Was that it all along? Was he an attention whore?

"Do you know what it feels like to let go of someone you really love for a long time for them to just be happy?" Clare read from her short story to the class. And that was her parting sentence and then she sat back down, the tears slowly starting to form. She looked at Eli across the room and she saw that he was sleeping.

That broke her more than anything.

As Eli remembered that day, he took the pills out again and decided.

These pills would kill him. They were that powerful. If he took enough he would die instantly with the vodka.

The pocketknife he had was ready and prepared. He took the knife and he slid it across his arm, and he poured the vodka on it.

He acted on impulse, swallowing two at a time, and he fell to the ground. Everything was spinning, he was lightheaded and everything was so fucking bright. God, he wanted to get out of the light, he needed to leave the light. His heart was going crazy, he could've sworn his heart was bleeding, and everything was going numb. He couldn't feel or even hear himself.

The cut was hurting like a bitch but that didn't even matter to him.

_Push the pills down, drink a little harder, and laugh a little louder, breathe a little better. No one mourns the wicked… _

**Yeah, this is just the first one-shot. It's not really intense, but it's just a starter. I'm going to try to do different layers of insanity and anger… I'm kind of crazy. I've wanted to do this for a few months. **

**By the way, happy birthday Munro and Thomas! And Jahmil! **

**Yeah… **

**Review? **


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